The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Take it, I tell you. You must tell me what it all means. Jackson’s. The change in her face was not a pleasant one. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. One doesn’t realize that even the sort of civilization one has at Morningside Park is held together with difficulty. ‘And so?’ she asked. "I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood.
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